I'll Make You Mine

by Gia Riley

  Swinging is harder with the mattress in the way, but I jump a little higher and try again. I do it twice more until I make an entire circle that doesn’t look half bad. Now that I’ve mastered a simple swing, I tilt my head back, letting the wet strands of my hair fly behind me. Lifting with all my might, I raise my legs into a quick scissor kick.

  That’s the last thing I remember before the bedpost snaps in half, sending me flying into the ironing board and off the closet door. I end up wedged between the board and the door with the metal bolts scraping against my shins.

  The force of hitting the closet knocked the sliding door off the track.

  For a second I worry I peed myself upon impact, but then I realize the fish bowl fell off the bedside table, and I’m sitting in a puddle. My poor beta fish flops around beside me, and I do the only thing I can. I yell for help.

  I may die of embarrassment, but I’m stuck. And no amount of wiggling will set me free.

  Dylan

  I’m on the phone with Trevor when it sounds like Zoe’s about to come through the bedroom wall. What the hell is she doing?

  “Let me call you right back.”

  Pressing my ear against the door, I take a listen before I barge inside, but the crashing and banging’s stopped. There’s no movement, and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “Zoe, are you okay?”

  “I’m stuck. Help me!”

  The panic in her voice makes me throw the door open, but I end up running into it because it barely budges. Whatever’s in the way, isn’t moving.

  “That’s not you is it?”

  “No, I’m by the closet.”

  Thank god.

  It takes two more attempts before I create enough room to squeeze through without getting stuck.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t Zoe lying underneath a collapsed ironing board and closet door. “What the hell happened?”

  “Dylan, this door is heavy.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. My pride’s a little damaged.”

  Once I lift everything off of her, I realize she’s half naked. The bra with the sweet little bow has been replaced with red lace and matching bottoms.

  “Jesus, fuck,” I mumble as I scoop her up and carry her to the bed. That’s when I notice the broken post. “Oh, Zo. You didn’t.”

  She buries her face against my chest. “I did.”

  Once I set her down, she reaches for her panties with one hand and pulls the blanket over herself with the other. Seconds later the scrap of lace is dangling from her finger.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as my dick painfully presses against my zipper. I should have left my sweats on.

  “I’m all wet,” she says, not realizing what she’s implied.

  I look around the room, searching for a distraction. Anything to keep from focusing on how little she’s wearing and how much I want her. That’s when I spot the overturned bowl and connect the dots. “The fish.”

  “Jaws? Is he still moving?” she asks with little hope in her eyes.

  With her naked from the waist down, I’m barely holding it together. But I step over the mess and follow the wet trail on the carpet. Jaws is struggling for air, but I plop him back in the bowl and run to the bathroom to fill it with water.

  I won’t have to break any bad news, though. He swims to the surface as soon as the water passes through his gills.

  Once he’s on the road to recovery, I take a second to breathe. So much adrenaline has accumulated in my system, my hands are shaking. Now that I know Zoe isn’t hurt, I stupidly visualize her on the bedpost. And I’m so bummed I missed the show.

  “Did he die, Dylan?” she yells from her room.

  I shouldn’t, but I laugh as I take him back to her bedroom. I knew living with Zoe would be interesting, but she’s already surpassed my expectations.

  The smile’s wiped off my face when I see her nestled under the covers. She looks so sweet, so innocent, yet so tempting.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  Nodding, she sits up and the blanket pools around her waist, keeping her covered on the bottom but showing off the bra on top. She looks hot. “I’m fine, but the bed and the closet door don’t look so good.”

  “I’ll fix them. What exactly were you trying to do?” Visions of her dressed the way she is, swinging around her bedpost almost kill me.

  “Just trying to find my sexy. If you could have seen the way the other girls moved, Dylan, it was so sensual. I’m a klutz.”

  She may smack me, but I lean in and press my lips to hers. For a second she freezes, but once she warms to my touch she kisses me back, harder than ever.

  If pole dancing gets her this horned up, I’m definitely encouraging her to go back and give it another try. Call me selfish, I don’t care. She’s kissing me, and right now that’s all that matters.

  She places a finger on her swollen bottom lip and says, “What was that?”

  “That was us,” I tell her.

  Her eyes land on the bedpost and I see how much she wishes she was like all those other girls in the class. But she is like them, she just doesn’t know it.

  “Zo, if you could see what I see, you’d understand. This body. Those eyes. Your heart. You don’t get how sexy you are.”

  “I guess I don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t feel sexy, Dylan. When I look in the mirror, I see an average girl. A girl who doesn’t spend hours on her hair because she sucks at using the curling iron. A girl who can’t stand a lot of makeup on her face, even though it’d make me prettier. My clothes aren’t designer, they come from sale racks because I’m already knee-deep in school loans. I’m nothing special.”

  She doesn’t realize all those qualities are what make her stand out instead of blending in. And not in a bad way. They draw me to her because she’s not obsessed with her appearance—she’s not superficial and she appreciates what she has. “Clothes and money don’t define your existence, Zo.”

  “But you’re the only one who thinks that. Everyone else our age is hung up on how I look.”

  “Do they matter?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Do I matter?”

  “Of course, you’re my best friend, Dylan.”

  “Then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about. Because let me tell you a little secret. You make it so easy to want you, and it has nothing to do with your appearance. I mean, sure, I’m hard as fuck because of this bra, but it’s your smile and your heart that matter to me.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Zoe, you have a twin. A fucking twin who looks a hell of a lot like you. And I still chose you—I’ll always choose you.”

  Chewing on her lip she realizes she’s not covered up and reaches for the blanket. “So you’re saying nerdy is your thing?”

  “I’m saying you’re my thing.”

  “I want you, too,” she whispers. “I’m just struggling. I can’t seem to stop worrying about all the bad things that can happen to us. Which is stupid, because the good stuff is what feels so good. And there’s been a lot of that.” Her voice is so full of emotion, I think she might cry.

  Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and I pull the glasses off her face and set them on the bed. “These eyes have slain me more times than I can count. I may not remember every time I’ve looked into them, but I remember every single time you’ve let me see you.”

  “I’m trying to figure out how you can see so much when I can’t.”

  She wouldn’t be able to because she doesn’t think she’s worthy. I’m the one who’s not good enough for her. I’m the one who messes up more often than I get it right. Shit, look what I did with Keely. I’ll never forgive myself for that one.

  “All you have to do is let me love you,” I tell her. “Everything else will happen on its own.”

  “Will it?” she asks with concern and doubt.

  “I’m not trying to force you, Z
oe. If you can honestly look at me and tell me you don’t want us, I’ll stop pressuring you. I won’t blur any more lines. Is that what you want?”

  “The lines are only blurred because we’re not together, Dylan.”

  My next question has the potential to destroy me, but I ask it anyway because it’s time. “Zoe, do you want us to be together? Because if you want to be my girlfriend, say so. I’ll give you whatever title you want. Princess. Queen. My Lady. You name it and it’s yours.”

  She swallows hard. The answer’s written all over her face, but she’s hesitant to say the words.

  “Dylan, I . . .”

  Her tone has too much doubt and I panic. Before she can throw away the possibility of being with me, I stop her mid-sentence. “Think about it,” I tell her. “Take some time and really think about us.”

  Yes is the only answer I want.

  Yes is the only response I’ll be able to live with.

  She watches as I place her closet door back on the track. After that, I set her bent ironing board in front of the window. I might be able to straighten the legs if I whack it with a hammer. I check if the bedpost is salvageable, but duct tape is the only solution. “I’ll just toss the post.”

  “I can’t believe I broke your mom’s bed.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll sand down what’s left so it’s not sharp. You’re lucky I’m good with my hands.”

  Groaning, she tries to suffocate herself with a pillow. “You’re so evil.”

  “Because you know it’s true.” I’m about to take her broken post to the trash can when I remember why I was on the phone with Trevor. “Hey, Zo?”

  “Yeah?” she keeps her face buried in the pillow, refusing to look at me. Because if she did, she’d cave in a second. And she’s not sure that’s the best option for us.

  “Do you care if a couple friends come over tonight?”

  “Nope, have at it.”

  “Should I tell them I hired some entertainment?” The pillow soars across the room and smacks me in the face. I laugh because I deserve it.

  “I’m not sorry,” she says with a straight face that only makes me laugh harder. Serious Zoe is adorable.

  As I place the pillow on the bed, I steal one last glance at her beautiful body. I thought Zoe was making sense of my feelings, but she’s still scared. She’s still holding back.

  I’d never resort to an ultimatum, but I’m running low on ideas. Something’s gotta give, and I’m hoping a carefree night with friends will help.

  Zoe

  From the moment we slept together, I knew life as Dylan Turner’s roommate would be different. During the actual deed, I wasn’t sure how it’d change, I just knew it would. And I’d have to live with the consequences of our actions.

  I didn’t care.

  I was happy.

  I was caught up in Dylan’s web.

  Now it’s time to face the music, that incessant rhythm which pours through my heart and reminds me how much I want him.

  I’m the girl who breaks bedposts and flattens closet doors. Most people have more coordination in their pinky than I have in my entire body. I should thank my lucky stars someone finds my quirks appealing.

  For reasons I’ll never understand, Dylan is that person. He’s my guy. The one relationship in my life that has been effortless. Through all the ups and downs, even the loss of my mother, he’s been by my side.

  It makes sense I’d want more with him. And because I care about him, I want to wrap myself in a pretty little bow and give him what he wants. But I can’t figure out how to turn my feelings into confidence.

  Confidence in myself.

  Confidence in what we share.

  I still have none of that. In fact, I almost stopped breathing when he said I could be his. I want to be. But I don’t know if I can. Dating is one giant question mark.

  Would I make a good girlfriend?

  Am I capable of meeting Dylan’s expectations?

  What if we fizzle and die as a couple?

  Who am I without Dylan?

  All these unanswerable questions are the reason I’ve been working on a pros and cons list about Dylan. It’s not the most conventional way to date a guy, but this list brings me comfort.

  TO DATE OR NOT TO DATE . . .

  Pros

  Cons

  He’s my best friend.

  He’s my best friend.

  I trust him.

  I trust him.

  I’m safe with him.

  Losing him scares me.

  He saved Jaws.

  He once lied about him dying.

  He saved me.

  I hurt myself trying to be sexier for him.

  He shares his food with me.

  He eats a lot.

  He makes me feel special.

  He makes it hard to focus.

  He was my first.

  I can’t stop thinking about him.

  He’s well endowed.

  I’m ruined for all future penises.

  His eyes.

  His smile.

  His heart.

  His laugh.

  His muscles.

  His ass.

  “Zoe?”

  I jump at the sound of his voice, and my pen flies across the room. “What?”

  Like he can somehow channel my thoughts, I grab my notebook and hold it close. He can’t see how pathetic I am. Or read about how much I love his ass.

  He tilts his head to the side, adorably. When did Dylan become adorable?

  “What are you doing, Zo? I said your name about five times and I still scared you.”

  “Studying.”

  “Must be some test. You’re extra tense.”

  “Impossible chapter.” I’m so worked up I can’t even form full sentences with the proper amount of nouns and verbs. Adjectives are too risky. Dylan’s an adjective with all his smooth vibes.

  He holds out his hand and my face flames. “Let me see what you’re working on. Maybe I can help.”

  “No, no. That’s okay. You already saw too much today.”

  He moves closer, shaking his head. “I’d never get enough of you. Trust me.” He glances at my notebook again. “Lemme see.”

  “You’d laugh. I’m a planner. I’m just trying to get organized.”

  “I’ve seen your grocery lists, Zo. Organized down to the aisle and shelf. Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

  “In the long run, my grocery planning saves valuable time.”

  “Which leaves more time for us. And speaking of groceries, I picked up those drinks you like.”

  Still clutching the notebook to my chest, my heart melts a little—because he’s aware of all my favorites and wants to get them for me. “The ones in the little bottles that taste like coffee and chocolate milk?”

  He laughs and his dimple pops. That’s going on the pro side of the list. Or maybe it should be a con because once I see that dimple, I can’t think about anything else. No, it’s definitely a pro. It’s an amazing dimple.

  “Zo?”

  “Huh?”

  “I was saying I got the mudslides.”

  “I love those.”

  “I know you do, but you should grab one before someone else finds them in the back of the fridge.”

  “Your friends are here already?” Jesus, how long have I been lying here thinking about dating Dylan?

  “Yeah, I thought you heard them come in.”

  “No, I was in the zone.” The danger zone.

  He holds out his hand and it suddenly becomes easy to leave the notebook behind. Helping me off the bed, I get chills when he rests his hand against the small of my back, keeping it there until we’re in the kitchen. “Who’s here?”

  “The usual. Trevor, Josh, Jack, and Damon.”

  Glancing around the living room, I see four familiar faces plus one I’ve never met. “Who’s the girl?”

  “She’s Trevor’s neighbor. She doesn’t know many people yet, so she tagged along.”

&n
bsp; “Are they dating?”

  “God, no. They’re like brother and sister.”

  I’d feel better if they were. She’s staring at Dylan like she wants to eat him. Even though he’s made it clear he wants me, it still sends a surge of jealousy through my veins.

  Dylan stands next to me, watching me stare at Letty. I’m glad he can’t read my mind because it’d cause a fight. “I’ll ask her to leave if you want me to. This is your house, too.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting any girls.”

  “Neither was I. Besides,” he whispers as he pulls me back in the hallway so nobody else can see us. “You’re the only girl here that matters.”

  “She can stay,” I mumble through a shaky breath, making Dylan chuckle.

  “That’s my girl.” He backs away and leaves me breathless against the wall. “Grab a drink and join us.”

  “Give me a minute to change.”

  Running for the fridge, I pound a mudslide like a frat guy chugs a beer. Tonight, I’m determined not to let my nerves control my behavior. I’ll be fun and comfortable with Dylan and his friends, because if we end up dating, we’ll spend a lot of time together.

  I repeat my mantra over and over until I’m satisfied with my appearance. I might even look pretty tonight. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need another drink.

  It goes down easy and helps my nerves settle down. Letty won’t steal my thunder tonight. Who knows, I might even tell Dylan yes.

  That mentality dies a slow and painful death when I spot Letty dangerously close to Dylan’s lap. She’s so close, her hand rests on his thigh and her body’s angled toward his. Laughing at everything he says, even the parts that aren’t funny, she’s in full-on flirt mode.

  My stomach churns. The alcohol isn’t sitting well.

  To make matters worse, Dylan looks like he’s into her. His eyes are lit up, and as he takes a swig of his beer, he keeps them on her.